


Azazel's Broken Wings

by KairaKara101



Series: Last to Know [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Blood and Injury, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Post-Canon, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairaKara101/pseuds/KairaKara101
Summary: Someone found out about a meddling Prince of Hell. Now there was Hell to pay and this... this was the aftermath.
Series: Last to Know [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1314503
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Azazel's Broken Wings

Aziraphale and Crowley pushed the unlocked door open. Immediately, the smell of something coppery assaulted their noses. Crowley stared at the feathers scattered about the hallway. There were specks of blood tainting the broken feathers. 

“Azazel?” Aziraphale called out stepping side the hallway with some worry. 

Nothing. Only the barely audible tick tock from the clock, but otherwise, absolute silence. Not even a sound from the world outside made it inside. 

“Lord Azazel?” Crowley yelled going further into the loft keeping out of the feathery mess that was scattered about the hallway.

As the two made their way deeper into the loft, Aziraphale and Crowley heard a pained moan coming from the sofa. They shared a concern glance before Crowley quickened his stride to reach the other side of the sofa quickly. 

“Oh bloody Hell,” Crowley whispered out as he knelt down next to the sofa where Azazel laid face-down unconsciousness, “Lord Azazel?”

Crowley stared at the blood that was staining the usually pristine and pressed collared shirt. He brought a hand to Azazel’s forehead and felt for a temperature while Aziraphale hovered behind him.

“Angel, could you go find the first aid kit?” Crowley questioned taking his hand away from Azazel’s forehead, “We’re going to need to patch up his injuries. Whatever it may be… I’m thinking it might be his wings.”

“I’ll go look for it,” Aziraphale answered giving Azazel one last look before heading through the loft to find it. 

Crowley patted Azazel’s cheek hoping that he’d opened his eyes or at least he was conscious, “Lord Azazel, come on sir, wake up.”

“‘m n’t your Lord, ‘diot,” Azazel mumbled into the couch cushion, staring blearily eyed up at him, “why you ‘ere?”

“Adam and the Them wanted to invite you over,” Crowley answered shifting on his knees, “I need to look at your injury.”

“Hmm…,” Azazel hummed closing his eyes tightly, tensing as pain shot through his back.

“How did you get this?” Crowley questioned as he gingerly tries to get access to the injury.

“Hmm…,” Azazel hummed absently, snapping his finger weakly to miracle the shirt off, helping Crowley along with the process, “‘ucifer..., ‘alled me in….”

“What!” Aziraphale exclaimed in horror coming over with the first aid kit, “And you went? That was suicide, Azazel!”

“I ‘igured that out… thanks,” Azazel mumbled sarcastically, hearing Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a twin hiss at the sight of his injuries. 

“Can you materialize your wings? We need to see if it’s broken and to set it back into place if it is,” Crowley inquired snapping to get a bowl of warm water and a towel to appear on the coffee table. 

“I might be able to,” Azazel muttered breathlessly, closing his eyes to help focus on his wings and pulling them into the material plane. 

He groaned, fingers digging into the sofa’s cushion as his wings appeared. He faintly heard Aziraphale’s gasp of horror and Crowley’s hiss of discomfort. 

“Holy Hellfire!” Crowley hissed staring at the broken wings and the loose feathers held in different positions that were unnatural. There were so many feathers missing or broken.

“Lucifer did this?” Aziraphale said softly sounding like he was going to feel sick. 

“Of course he did it, damn bastard,” Azazel mumbled turning his head sideways to get a better view of Aziraphale and Crowley, “you two… look well. How is retirement?”

Aziraphale gave him a small smile, “I’m enjoying it quite well. We’re almost finish with the renovations for our cottage in South Downs. You should come visit and have some tea.” He knelt down next to Crowley taking a towel to wipe away the drying blood. 

Crowley dug through the first aid kit looking for the alcohol and some gauze. 

Azazel hissed out gripping the cushion, burying his face into the sofa. He hated pain. He could endure it to a certain threshold, but the amount of torture Lucifer inflicted hurt and ached in ways he hated. The irony…, oh the irony, was that the tools used were tools that Azazel forged himself for Hell. Damn foul bastard.

Aziraphale brought a damp warm towel wiping away the blood hearing Azazel’s soft hisses of pain. Underneath the blood was wounds made by a blade, a whip, among the few to name. Aziraphale tired to keep a brave face. These wounds were horrible. Was that a shrapnel wound? Dear Heavens.

“You do not have to feel sorry, little angel,” Azazel whispered breathless in between pain spasms, “It is probably a part of Her ineffable plan and all.”

“But this type of pain… why?”

“It comes as a price for Free Will,” Azazel answered closing his eyes tiredly, “Nothing is free. Not even Free Will. Perhaps, once upon a time it was but after the Great War or Fall… things changed. Every action has a consequence.”

“Why did Lucifer punish you?” Crowley questioned going over the wiped down wounds with alcohol soaked gauze to keep possible infections at bay.

Azazel opened his blue fiery eyes and stared at the two quietly mulling over the question before saying slowly, “He was angry that I stopped Hell from punishing the two of you further for averting Armageddon.”

“He punished you!” Aziraphale stated scandalized by the thought, “Because you didn’t allow us to be captured?”

Azazel gave them a tired smile, “He always hated being wrong and defied, the fucking bastard. And it was the right thing to do, She would not have stood for it.”

Crowley wrapped the wounds up after Aziraphale stitched the bigger wounds. They worked in silence at the information drop. They still needed to set the broken wings. 

Azazel dozed off with the occasional groan of pain. 

“These wounds are horrible, Crowley,” Aziraphale muttered cleaning his bloody hands on a clean towel. 

Crowley hummed as he finished up the last of the bandages before they had to tackle the monster that was broken wings.

“Ah… Azazel, we’re going to deal with the broken wings now,” Aziraphale said softly worried when all they got was a grunt in response.

“I think that’s his way to say get on with it,” Crowley stated grimacing at the sight of the broken wings. He really wasn’t looking forward to setting a Prince of Hell’s broken wings. They might get caught in the backlash of it being set.

“How shall we go about this?” Aziraphale questioned wringing his hands out of nervousness.

“Well, I need to take a deeper look,” Crowley stated moving around Aziraphale to get a closer look to see where the wing was broken and how to reset it. It was a clean break thankfully. Crowley motioned to Aziraphale to help with the other side. 

“On the count of three,” Aziraphale stated with a nervous smile that only Crowley saw.

“Fuck three. Set it,” Azazel commanded with a quiet hiss. He could use that relief before the onset of pain settled in.

Aziraphale stared wide eyed at Crowley who nodded before they set the wing back into place in unison. 

Azazel groaned as a wave of white blinding pain ripped through his body. His dark black wings twitched and spasmed.

Crowley waited for the wings to settle before wrapping it up, “We still have to set the other one.”

“Do get on with it,” Azazel muttered burying his face into the sofa. 

Crowley took a deep breath before they both snapped the other broken wing back into place. 

Azazel gasped out biting into his hand to keep from crying out from the blinding pain. He blinked slowly staring at the Angel and Demon adding the final bandages. 

“You are here because the little hell-spawn?” Azazel mumbled wearily feeling the aches and pains throughout his body.

“They wanted to invite you over for tea and to thank you,” Aziraphale said softly sitting down on his knees, “He also has a few questions to ask you.”

“We’re also late, Angel,” Crowley stated quietly wiping his hands clean.

“You did not have to stay,” Azazel murmured pushing himself up onto his elbows hissing out in pain dematerializing his wings back into the metaphysical realm.

“Yes, well…,” Aziraphale stated slowly, “We couldn’t leave you like that.”

“Yes, you could,” Azazel answered sitting up on the sofa with tired eyes and snapped his fingers. His clothing changed into light blue collared shirt and black jeans, “Where is this meeting happening?”

“We could always reschedule. You could use some rest perhaps,” Aziraphale said with some worry at the olive green tint that Azazel’s face had gained.

“Nonsense,” Azazel answered waving his hand, “I have energy to go. Rather get it over with.”

Crowley pursed his lips before shrugging in resignation. There really wasn’t any stopping Azazel when he put his foot down. He has always been stubborn. Perhaps… that was why Azazel wasn’t afraid to go up against Lucifer. 

“Well come on then. The sooner we get there the sooner they stop barraging my phone with texts,” Crowley stated straightening up and brushing off any dust that may have accumulated over time. Crowley led Aziraphale and Azazel to the Bentley. 

Azazel kept his back as relaxed as possible. His entire body ached like it had when he fell all the way down from Heaven. He got into the Bentley sprawling out on the back seat, closed his eyes, and crossed his arms. He might as well attempt to get some rest before meeting the little kiddos. 

He jolted awake folding forward gasping for air. Those nightmares again. He has not had those nightmares in years. They were such confusing nightmares. He was a demon, a Prince of Hell. They shouldn’t get nightmares and yet here he was breaking all the norms and standards left right and center. Nightmares that he could never fully remember except for the feelings that remain.

“Azazel?” 

Azazel glanced up towards the front seat blinking slowly seeing Aziraphale turning his head to look back at him.

“Sorry… dozed off a bit there,” Azazel stated calmly forcing his tense body to relax. The jolting awake did nothing for his back and pains. It felt like when Lucifer stabbed him with a hot spear with the pain ripping though his spine.

“Are you all right? Should we turn around and take you back?” Aziraphale questioned looking concerned with his brows furrowed. Crowley’s snake eyes glanced back at him through the rear view mirror.

“It is fine… I see we have reached the countryside. Crowley, were you speeding again?” Azazel inquired staring out the window. It was definitely a rhetorical question. Rarely does Crowley go the speed limit when he could go faster.

“We’re almost there. Angel, could you answer my phone and tell them that we’re coming,” Crowley muttered keeping his eyes on the road. 

Azazel watched as the countryside blew past him. When was the last time he was out of London proper? Maybe he should look for vacation time and disappear for awhile. 

The small quaint cottage greeted them when Crowley rolled up the gravel driveway. They really made the place their own. It almost felt like Eden. Like the garden that humans were exiled from. Paradise on earth. 

“Uncle Crowley, Uncle Aziraphale, you two made it!” 

So this was Adam Young. Azazel looked at the young boy in front of him. He was barely a teenager, not yet fully experienced in the ways of life. He looked nothing like his “father” in all honesty. If anything, he really seemed to take after Mister and Missus Young. If Azazel didn’t know better, he’d never doubt that Adam wasn’t their biological son except for the strangeness that he always seems to emits.

“Of course we made it,” Crowley snarked ruffling Adam’s hair with a fond smile before walking towards the cottage, “you and the Them better not have destroyed the place while we were out.”

“We wouldn’t cause that much chaos,” Adam stated before turning to Azazel blinking slowly before pursing his lips, “hello, I’m Adam Young.”

“I know who you are,” Azazel deadpanned stepping forward, “I was told that you had questions. Shall we head inside and get comfortable?”

“He’s not talkative, is he?” Adam whispered to Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale smiled slowly feeling his lips twitch with unease.

“Are you going to talk shit behind me or in front of me with a delicious cup of tea?” Azazel questioned glancing over his shoulder, “I do know which one I prefer.” 

Without waiting for the hosts, Azazel snapped opening the front door and walking inside. The home was quite cozy with the warm colors, wood, and natural elements spread throughout the place. If outside felt a bit like Eden, inside felt like the most cozy home in existence. Azazel closed his eyes tightly feeling the room. It felt like home that was no longer available to him. He wondered what She thought of his actions after everything he’s broken. Shaking his head, he took in the other teenagers in front of him. So these are the young one’s friends. The ones that helped to stop Armageddon. Humans were such strange determined little beings. He’ll stay for a bit and humor these little young beings. It’ll be a nice vacation for once.

**Author's Note:**

> It's left open-ended as it will be explained in the longer story "Last to Know, First to Understand." Thank you for reading, leaving a comment, and kudos! <3


End file.
